Best Leading Actress
by Marindee
Summary: "The only award that most assumed Temperance Brennan couldn't possibility ever win was perhaps the one she deserved most of all." Early Season 6 former one-shot, but has been extended, due to popular demand.
1. Chapter 1

"The only award that most assumed Temperance Brennan couldn't possibility ever win was perhaps the one she deserved most of all."

 **A/N : I'm aware that this is very outdated, cannon-wise, but I felt it just had to be written...**

 **Disclaimer: Yes, I write fan fiction in between all the owning** ** _Bones_** **I do. Not.**

"I don't give a flying fuck about what Hacker thinks. The Steelers won't lose this year; we've got a great half back."

Brennan's eyes widened, taking on the appearance of a startled owl. It was not uncommon for the scientist to be perplexed by her partner's idioms. This one launched her on a brief but distracting internal query concerning the two species of which she was certain engaged in in-flight copulation; eagles over the Rockies, and humans in airplanes over just about anywhere.

"Bones, you in there?" Booth's forehead was creased in confusion, which confirmed Brennan's theory the she had sectioned out. A forced smile and weak nod of her head later, Booth had returned his attention to Hannah. It had been like this for months, neither partner able to get a - what was the term Angela had used? Read, her internal self supplied helpfully - read on each other. Of course, it was not entirely the fault of their fading connection.

It was hard for anyone to grasp the concept that Temperance Brennan would lie. This was not an accident.

She was more than proficient in the art of deceit, and she was well aware of this. However, she chose to be truthful - most of the time. This, too, was intentional. After all, if one was pathologically incapable of speaking anything but the facts, wouldn't it stand to reason that anything that came out of their mouth could be trusted?

In the course of her partnership with one Seeley Booth, this skill of hers had become obsolete; even when they went undercover, her talent went untapped. But today... Today, she had called on every last modicum of hidden skill that she had amassed over the years to deceive the one person she had not thought it possible to lie to.

This begged the question; were her emotions truly that well concealed, or did he even give a (to borrow his terminology ) 'flying fuck ' anymore? Though fucks could not _actually_ become airborne, the phrase's inferred meaning seemed to translate her sentiments perfectly.

In fact, Brennan reflected as the coolness of his gaze fleetingly met hers before he turned away to laugh at something the blonde woman accompanying them had said, no one in the group that he had once assured her was a 'family' had noticed in the least as she retreated back into her lab for days on end, nor had anyone commented on her not having slept well in more than a week, much less eaten anything substantial in longer than that.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when she noted that both of them were now angled towards her expectantly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What did you say?" Booth's mouth turned up in the corner, forming the quirky, cocky half-grin she adored. As her social worker had said to her numerous times,'the show must go on', and maybe, just maybe, now was time to forfeit her role as leading lady.

Lights.

Camera.

Action.

 **A/N: Alright, this is my first-ever time writing fan fiction, and I have no beta yet, so all mistakes are completely my own. Love it? Hate it? Suggestions for improvement? Please comment!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! This was intended to be a one-shot, but I'm developing it into my first actual story - with something of a plot and everything! This is a bit less humorous, but I think you'll survive. All mistakes are my own!**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned** ** _Bones_** **, I would probably ruin it, so let's all be thankful that I don't.**

After the meal was brought to its conclusion, Brennan remained at the restaurant's bar for a bit of self-pity. With a sort of dark smirk, she ordered a shot of tequila. The golden liquid caught the overhead lamp's light and cast streaks of yellow onto the bar. With gentle fingers the anthropologist lifted her shot glass and observed as the play of the refracted electrons on the worn wooden surface shifted. *Skole*.

The third shot didn't burn nearly as much as her first, and the fourth even less. In fact, Brennan noted as the bartender moved to refill her glass, she was getting pleasantly ignorant of her surroundings.

"Doctor Brennan? What are you doing here?" The scientist turned unsteadily on her bar stool to face the speaker, someone she most certainly hadn't expected to see - two someones, in fact.

Standing to her left was Doctor Lance Sweets, and to her right was the irksome Daisy Wick. The seated woman gave a clumsy incline of her head, which the pair seemed to take as their cue to join her.

"I am becoming intoxicated - _hic_ \- through the consumption of - _hic_ \- alcoholic bev- _hic_ \- beverages. " Sweets opened his mouth to interject, likely some sort of psychological analysis of her current state, "And _don't_ try to tell me - _hic_ \- what I'm feeling and why with that - _hic_ \- pseudo science of yours - _hic_ \- either! "

The young man's eyebrows were raised in mild surprise at the sharp undertone her voice held. She found herself absentally wondering just how far upwards the black streaks would climb if her 'baby duck' were aware of just how many times she had deceived him, psychological acting lessons be damned.

A stray notion flickered across the edge of her vast intellect, and she metaphorically went scrambling after it. _I could tell him - them - every thing. He'd know, then the truth. Right? Because that's what matters; the truth. But the reason they don't know, nobody knows, is to protect them. From the truth. Remember, when early in our partnership, on one of our first cases, Booth said, "They deserve the kindness of the lie..." You remember that, because you have an excellent memory, and a steep learning curve, and a high alcohol tolerance, and a cold, empty apartment, and no child or close family that remembers your existence. But you do. You remember._

"I remember."

An astounded psychologist coughed a couple of times before hesitantly asking with a slightly quivering voice, "What truth? What do you remember?"

Brennan glanced in his direction, then at her 'squintern', and came to the conclusion that she had said her entire thought process out loud, then promptly lost consciousness, head falling to the counter.

 **A/N: I'm not going to use posting (or not ) as a means of getting what I want but a bit of feed back would be great! ~Mar**


End file.
